


Just Friends

by yuffiehighwind



Series: An Eternity in Cheese Country [38]
Category: Hercules: The Legendary Journeys, Xena: Warrior Princess
Genre: Dual Identity, F/M, M/M, Milwaukee, Modern Era, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-01
Updated: 2010-11-01
Packaged: 2018-03-22 13:29:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3730666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuffiehighwind/pseuds/yuffiehighwind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The morning after the last scene in "Kamashastra." Strife regrets what happened; Discord confesses how she feels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Friends

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of the 'fic series "An Eternity in Cheese Country," and here's why - after they were killed by Callisto and Xena, the souls of Strife, Discord, and Deimos were reincarnated in the late 20th century into three humans named Steve, Veronica, and Dave.

"You want to talk about it?"  
  
Steve poured himself a bowl of Frosted Flakes. Trying to retrieve the milk, he sidestepped a sober Veronica, but she blocked his path.  
  
He didn't say anything, just shot her a look. There wasn't anything to say. Not now, not ever.  
  
"So that's a no."  
  
He pulled open the refrigerator door and she had no choice but to move aside.  
  
"Strife, it's just me. Discord. And there's something wrong, I can tell."  
  
Milk poured, he didn't bother putting it back with her standing there. She leaned against the fridge door, head tilted, hair frizzed out, so he placed it on the counter and headed for the living room.  
  
"Fine, don't speak to me. I have something I gotta say to you."  
  
He sat on the couch and turned on the television, but she just stood in front of that too.  
  
"I...felt something."  
  
Her roommate was like a brick wall. He pretended he could see the TV through her, then arched his neck so he could look around her. Unable to read him, Veronica knelt down to try and make eye contact with him.  
  
"Last night, when we...you know. What I'm trying to say is--"  
  
"It was a mistake, Veronica," Steve said.  
  
She felt a small stab to the heart, and her brow couldn't help but rise at this.  
  
"A mistake?"  
  
"Look, I don't think we should make a big deal out of this," he said, putting down the cereal. The ice melting, since that hadn't worked, he reached for one of her hands, but she pulled away like she'd been burned.  
  
Veronica looked away this time, gazing at the floor and trying not to let that water pool in her eyes. Even now, years later, the feeling was alien.  
  
"It was just--"  
  
"Just what? Just sex?" Veronica snapped.  
  
"Well, yeah."  
  
Veronica stood up, arms crossed. She stormed into the kitchen, biting her nails. The exit just annoyed Steve.  
  
"With Dave, no less!" he called after her.  
  
Dave could sleep like the dead, so Steve didn't expect the shout to wake him. The slacker emerged from Veronica's room in his boxers and leaned in the doorway, blinking at the light.  
  
"Can you keep it down?"  
  
Steve brushed past him and into the kitchen, but this just made Veronica dart out again. Dave reached out to grab her arm, and it gave Steve a small pang of his own when she let Dave roughly pull her to him.  
  
Concern on his face, he asked, "What's up, Discord?"  
  
The two whispered something Steve couldn't hear and figured he wasn't privy to. Which was frustrating, because he couldn't tell if Veronica was lying to her lover about why she was upset.  
  
She nodded and mumbled something, and with a last gentle touch to her lower back, Dave let her go. The two of them were a tangle of contradictions when it came to their relationship, but that wasn't surprising being 2,000 year old war gods.  
  
"Um, I'm gonna take a piss and go back to bed for a bit."  
  
Veronica looked at her feet, then met Steve's gaze. She didn't look like she was about to cry anymore.  
  
"What did he say?"  
  
"Same thing he always says," she replied, adjusting her shirt, which was one of Dave's. She crossed her arms again, covering her breasts, but the lack of pants still made the whole thing more awkward.  
  
"He likes you," she blurted. At Steve's confused look, she added, "He liked...last night. He said we should, you know, do it again."  
  
He could tell she was still troubled, so he asked, "You don't want to, do you?"  
  
"I do! I do. With you."  
  
Icy didn't work, angry didn't work, warm wasn't working because she still refused his touch. Which was just as well, because this didn't feel right.  
  
"I...don't, Veronica. I mean, Dave turns me on, but--"  
  
"No Dave," she said, her eyes full of something like love. "Just you and me." At his sigh she insisted, "Please, just once. We don't have to tell him. We can go somewhere."  
  
Dave came back on his way to the bedroom. The two had been speaking in hushed whispers, but Veronica stopped talking. Aware something was up, he approached the pair and wrapped an arm around her, kissing her hair.  
  
"Come back to bed."  
  
"In a minute," she said.  
  
"You can come, too," Dave said, in a lighter tone. He smirked at Steve before shutting the door.  
  
Steve turned and headed back to his soggy cereal.  
  
"Do you want to...?" she started, but he shook his head. Sighing, Veronica headed for the bedroom.  
  
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Veronica squealed, half-annoyed, half-delighted, as Dave, feigning sleep, suddenly pulled her down into bed.  
  
He rolled her under him and went straight for her neck.  
  
"You smell so good," he murmured, and despite the weight of him, the morning breath, and the obnoxiously obvious erection, Veronica was turned on.  
  
"What is it?" he asked, reaching under her shirt to grasp her breast. He rubbed his thumb over her nipple and grinned down at her.  
  
Veronica could answer or she could giggle (a bad new human habit on account of her sensitive, ticklish skin) and shake her head. Despite the heat between her legs, what happened with Steve still bothered her. It always would, now.  
  
"Strife's cologne," she said, but instead of glaring at her or hurting her, she noticed it made Dave harder. He smiled and pulled her legs apart.  
  
"You should wear it more often," he said, pushing his boxers down.  
  
In the other room, Steve pulled on his jacket, shuffled into his shoes and grabbed his keys off the hook by the door.  
  
Veronica perked at the sound of the front door shutting. She started to sit up, but Dave pushed her back down.  
  
"Don't worry about him, he'll get over it," Dave said, trying to be assuring but failing miserably.  
  
She shut her eyes, that feeling like she was going to cry coming back.  
  
"No, Deimos, I think he already is."  
  
Dave just kissed her, which was just what she needed, really, because although he didn't taste like Steve or touch like him, and certainly didn't fuck like him, they had the same features. She felt his ears, caressed his face, his neck. She shut her eyes tight and curled her fingers over his shoulders, and wrapped her arms around him when he entered her, lifted his shirt to rub his back, and he had the same frame, the same skin, the same face, the same bones. Back home, they used to mock him, like he was just a copy, and a poor one at that. A sloppy clone of Strife's, even worse than the original.  
  
She remembered the first day she ever kissed Deimos, and shutting her eyes and imagining Strife. She'd thought he had died, and lied to herself when she said she didn't miss him. But kissing Deimos was like kissing Strife, which she'd never done but always wondered about. What would it be like, she thought, to cross that divide?  
  
Finally sating that curiosity wasn't anything like she expected. Maybe that's why humans didn't fuck their friends, because even if gods could screw that up, what damage could a human do?


End file.
